


Hotflash

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Anal Sex, Ficlet, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 12:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11230725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Garak’s just baffling.





	Hotflash

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for “In Heat” prompt on [my bingo card](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/158937866370/fic-bingo).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

By now, Julian recognizes the sound of Garak’s footsteps, and he knows exactly who’s waltzing into his infirmary. He throws a casual, “Garak,” over his shoulder without bothering to turn around. But then he hears the wall panel beep, and he looks back to see Garak keying in the locking sequence. Most Starfleet infirmaries don’t even _have_ that option, but of course a Cardassian station would. How Garak got such a code, Julian doesn’t even care to guess. 

He opens his mouth to protest, abandoning the information he was devouring on the computer terminal, but doesn’t get any noise out. Garak’s already stalked right up to him, faster than Quark to a bar of latinum. Right into Julian’s personal space and closer than anyone else would come, Garak purrs, “ _Doctor_.”

A shiver runs down Julian’s spine. It makes his mouth dry, but he still manages to say, “I’m a little busy at the moment; if you wait for lunch—”

“I thought I was supposed to come to you if I ever had a medical need,” Garak counters, taking another step closer that flattens their bodies together. Julian’s breath hitches at the hard bulge in Garak’s pants, hardly subtle. This is all decidedly less subtle than he’s used to with Garak—a creature of pure mystery. That all seems gone today, and Garak even rolls his hips forward as he growls, “Well, I have a _need_.”

Julian almost tells him off. The obvious erection should mark this as an obvious ploy. Except that, now that Julian really _looks_ , he can see just how dilated Garak’s pupils are. His ashen skin seems flushed a brighter purple, and his breath is quick, shallow. Julian mutters, “Something’s wrong...”

Garak just counters, “Nothing you can’t fix.” And he actually reaches down to cup Julian’s crotch. It’s so out of the blue that Julian actually wrenches away. They’ve _never_ skipped foreplay. Garak’s a master of the _game_ , and he usually makes Julian jump through a dozen hoops before he gets so much as a kiss. Now Garak stalks after him, this time backing him up against the wall and grabbing Julian between the legs. Only the shock stops Julian from having a complete hard on. Even in whatever sickness Garak’s suffering, he kneads Julian’s trapped cock as expertly as ever—he knows _exactly_ how to use each ridge and groove on his talented fingers. He rubs Julian through the fabric as he drawls, “You know, I never really liked this uniform... it just doesn’t do anything for your gorgeous figure. Allow me to take it off. With my teeth.”

Julian mutters, “What’re you—” but then his mouth’s covered in Garak, and Garak’s swallowing up his gasp. Julian means to push away, means to keep inquiring what’s _wrong_ , but, as usual, Garak’s tongue completely distracts him. He loses himself in the thickness of it, the rough, stimulating texture, the way it fills him up and traps his own tongue down. He kisses Garak back for a few wild moments, moaning despite himself, until Garak ducks away from his mouth to suck on his throat. Then Julian’s head tosses back, a languid groan spilling out. 

Garak unzips the top of Julian’s uniform, and he allows it, allows the purple collar underneath to be forced down, leaving more room for Garak to play. But while he clutches at Garak’s broad shoulders, he spots a medical tricorder over them, sitting innocently atop the counter. He has to stretch out to reach it, squirming in Garak’s grip, but he eventually manages to get them close enough and snatches it up. He runs it along Garak’s head while Garak nips his throat. It’s difficult to even understand the readings with how increasingly aroused Garak’s making him, but he knows they aren’t normal. He mutters while Garak bruises a hickie into him, “My god, your readings are off the chart... it’s almost like...”

But it can’t be. Julian doesn’t get to finish the thought. Suddenly Garak’s kicked his ankle out from under him, and Julian cries out, toppling down, Garak catching him by the sleeves, only to push him the rest of the way, laying him down across the floor and pinning him there. Garak shoves his legs open, bending them at the knees and spreading his thighs wide. Julian just finishes, “It’s almost like _pon farr_!”

“Ah,” Garak grins without skipping a beat. He’s already rolling down Julian’s pants. “The fabled Vulcan _pon farr_... well, different species _are_ different, my dear.” He doesn’t explain at all, which Julian half expected, just ducks down and shoves Julian’s thighs higher, leaning close enough to swipe his tongue over one of Julian’s spread cheeks. For a moment, Julian forgets his accusation entirely. Garak licks a slick line to his crack, then ducks between to find his hole, and proceeds to lap over it with enough vigor to leave Julian trembling and dripping. He can feel his hole twitching open, enough for Garak’s rolled up tongue to thrust inside, and he gasps as he arches off the floor. 

For the first few stabs of Garak’s tongue, Julian can’t do a thing but take it. As good as Garak’s tongue is in his mouth, it’s even better in his ass—it’s amazingly strong, fast, and stretches and wets him like nothing else. He knows from plenty of experience, but never in _his infirmary._ And not with Garak _like this_. Only concern for Garak allows him to push through enough to moan, “Is that what this is? Do Cardassians go through it?”

A final thrust that leaves him dizzy, and Garak withdraws, leaving Julian’s hole conspicuously empty and leaking hot saliva. Garak’s already sitting up and fiddling with his own pants. In a heartbeat, Garak has the bulbous tip of his cock pressed against Julian’s entrance, and Julian tries to relax for what he knows is coming. 

Garak thrusts in with merciless efficiency. Julian cries out at the first breech, but it doesn’t end there—Garak keeps _pushing_ , prying his way deeper and deeper without a moment’s pause. Julian can feel his own sweat gluing his uniform to his chest already. Garak’s face is ravenous. It usually is when it looks at Julian, only hidden by a few layers of masks that have all been stripped away today. With his hands on Julian’s thighs and mouth in a proud grin, Garak flippantly announces, “Why, nothing so barbaric. I certainly won’t _die_ if my needs aren’t met. ...But I might be a bit cranky, and you do seem to prefer me on my better days...” He punctuates his answer with a quick stab of his hips; Julian arches up again and screams.

From there on out, Garak’s pulling out and pounding in, fucking Julian relentlessly. He bends right down, forcing Julian’s knees against his chest, and sets back in on Julian’s neck—Julian doesn’t even have the energy to care about where that mouth’s just been. It’s all he can do to think straight. Garak’s cock always does that to him—it’s massive enough, but the extra ridges down the side stimulate his walls on every movement. Add to that Garak’s proficiency; he always finds the right spot, and then he never misses. He takes Julian in long, powerful thrusts, and eventually, Julian manages to mumble, “Like... like a dog in heat...” Garak lets out a little laugh, likely not in the least bit offended—Julian’s the one getting fucked on the floor, the one panting uncontrollably. Julian swallows and goes on, “Is that why you befriended me...?”

“Because you’re so delectable?” Garak laughs, hips not slowing for a second. Julian will never understand how he manages to sound so smooth even in the midst of sex. “Why, no, actually. It’s because you’re the one person on this station who would sit through _The Never Ending Sacrifice_... even if you didn’t like it.” Then he finds Julian’s mouth, and Julian finds himself swamped in another torrential kiss. Garak takes over his entire body, owning him on both ends, crushing him against the floor, heating him to the point of burning up and driving him _wild_.

Julian comes first, like he always does, his own cock, utterly untouched, bursting across his stomach. Garak doesn’t stop the kiss, but Julian can _feel_ his smirk. Except Garak’s following a moment later, thrusting forward and staying in to fill Julian with his cum. The hot rush of it makes Julian squirm, but he doesn’t try to pull away. In the post-orgasmic haze he’s still coming down from, it feels bizarrely _good_ to be pumped full of Garak’s seed. He’s actually pleased that Garak stays inside him after it. 

When Garak’s through, he pauses for breath, then slumps down atop Julian’s body. He’s too heavy for it, but Julian allows it anyway. Trapped below, Julian gropes out for the dropped tricorder and manages to pull it back. He does another quick scan and notes in more confusion, “It’s... all back to normal.”

Garak lifts his handsome head. He smiles wide and purrs in his usual sly, teasing tones, “Well, look at that. You’ve cured me. Thank you, Doctor.” And he reaches up to kiss Julian’s forehead, then pulls back to his knees. Julian actually whines when Garak’s cock pulls out of him, trailing a messy river with it. 

With far too much ease, Garak straightens to his feet. He rights his clothes in under a few seconds, bends down to help tidy Julian, and is then strolling for the door with a leisurely lilt to his hips. Julian’s left reeling. 

Julian lies on the floor long after Garak’s gone, wondering vaguely if aliens will ever stop being _strange_.


End file.
